The Last Entry
by desoul
Summary: After a mission takes a sour turn, one pilot mourns the death of another.


Disclaimer: This is mine but they are not. Gundam Wing is owned by some very rich fellows, one of which I am not.  
  
Warnings: Duo's dead. No, really.  
  
  
  
  
Videos played themselves out silently on the view screen of a worn black Gundam, their flighty blue light shining down on a single hunched figure currently seeking to lose himself in memory. A pair of shining eyes watched Duo laugh and grin, the water pooling there beginning to overflow in the face of an expression he'd give anything to see again.   
  
Then he couldn't take any more of the movies as the drops ran down his cheeks and he wiped them away stubbornly, refusing to admit he was crying. He couldn't look but he couldn't turn off the screen. He hated crying, but the tears wouldn't stop. He hadn't cried for so long and he found he couldn't do so anywhere but here, where the air smelled of Duo, and where the seat he sat on had shaped itself to fit the braided boy. Here, if he tried, he could pretend the other pilot really was alright. He could forget about the last mission and the gunshots and the blood, and just see Duo standing in the hatch, tsking at him for snooping around in his Gundam.   
  
Pushing a button, he started to listen to the last entry of Duo's log. He could hear Duo here, and he could pretend. It was only soft static that filled the air around the water stained pilot for a few long moments. Then Duo's strong voice claimed the space instead and the tears started again.   
  
"Aa, so here I am again! I don't know why I'm wasting time doing this before my missions since it's not like anything'll ever happen to me. I guess maybe I'm just bored or something. The rest of the pilots never really want to talk or anything, except maybe Quatre. I'm not mad at them or anything about it since they can do whatever they want to during their free time and I guess I really just need to talk, not to have anyone listen.   
  
"So now, what do I say? Wufei always tells me I talk alot for someone who doesn't have anything to say. He's wrong, you know. I have lots of things I could tell him but I don't want to. They all have enough problems on their own without needing to deal with me moping. Can you picture it? A mopey Maxwell," Duo chuckled a little, "Who the hell wants to see something like that?   
  
"But I wonder what would happen if they knew I'm not the laughing fool they think I am. If Wufei knew he isn't the only one mourning for the ones he's lost would he heal with me? If Heero knew the fight we're in really is the most important thing in my life would he wait for peace with me? If Trowa knew I really do know the value of silence would he enjoy it with me? If Quatre knew I could see the pain he holds in his eyes would he share it with me? What would they do if they knew? Would they do anything at all?"   
  
There was a pause for what seemed like hours. The recording was filled with the faint sounds of someone shifting and the rustling of some paper. Eventually a faint voice sounded and Duo's cheerful call of "I'll be down in a sec!" broke through the background noise, leaving he pilot to continue less than fifteen seconds later. "Well I guess it doesn't matter because they'll never know. The only way for that to ever happen is for one of them to get their hands on my log, and none of them would touch it unless I died or something. And I'm not gonna die," he said, the Duo the world knew coming back to the surface, "Because even if I'm not really Shinigami, the guy's got a definitely soft spot for me, and Death doesn't kill the ones he loves!"   
  
The entry ended there after about three seconds of silence and the occupant of the cockpit turned off his recorder. Staring at the mute videos playing on the view screen, the boy wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. They'd never known, Duo had been right about that. They'd taken the American at face value without searching for anything underneath the smiles and jokester antics. And occasionally, when he'd slipped and let the pain fall through the frozen grin, no one had really cared enough to help him cope.   
  
Duo had cared enough to die for them all, and when he'd been alive, he'd cared enough to be life for them as well. The safe house had seemed so silent when the four of them returned, so unlike the chatter that had filled the house from wall to wall when the braided pilot had shared it with them.   
  
The pilot currently sitting in DeathScythe found he'd never felt anything more stifling. He'd never thought he'd miss the sound of Duo's overly loud laugh, his exclamations, his corny jokes... Duo had been filled with them, in fact, just before they'd left on that last mission violet eyes had sparkled while telling one.   
  
"A man walked into a bar," said the memory of one who'd passed on.   
  
"...It hurt," finished the tearful voice of the one left behind. 


End file.
